Points on a Compass
by Livily
Summary: To the eastern sea, the western woods, the southern sun, and the northern skies. When bestowing his new kings and queens with their titles, Aslan had much more in mind than simple formalities.
1. The Eastern Sea

_AN: I don't own Narnia or anything in it. This will be partially based on the movies, and partially the books, depending on which version I like better, though the concept comes from the speech Aslan gives during the movie-version of the coronation. _

**Chapter One: The Eastern Sea**

"_To the glistening eastern sea, I give you Queen Lucy the Valiant_

The glistening eastern sea. A sea speckled with exotic islands and mysterious people. She had visited them all. Galma, Terebinthia, the Seven Isles, and even the Lone Islands had welcomed Queen Lucy of Narnia into their courts. She had gone in times of trouble and times of peace, resolving conflicts and celebrating good fortune. The Great Eastern Ocean was her domain, and she attended those within it with compassion and care, all the while gracing her hosts with sparkling eyes and a ready laugh.

Several years into her reign, she had made her first sea voyage, traveling on unsteady legs and gripping Peter's hand tightly. She had been sick, stumbling across the deck until finally consenting to a drop of cordial. She and the sea had been inseparable since.

Eight years after being crowned a queen of Narnia, Lucy and Edmund toured the islands of the Great Eastern Ocean. The island courts were amazed. Queen Lucy was no longer a radiant little girl, following her eldest brother and carefully asserting her opinion. She had grown into an eloquent and charming lady whose feet could now touch the floor when seated. She delighted their children with tales of talking beasts and dashing kings, and it was not uncommon to find her splashing in the surf among some of the court's younger residents, always laughing, always gazing East.

A grin never far from her face, Lucy eased the tensions of the stickiest situations and brought smiles to the faces of even the oldest and wizened of counselors. Queen Lucy and King Edmund worked as a team; Lucy relaying to her elder brother the needs of the people, and Edmund ensuring justice. Always, the island peoples adored the Narnian Queen, Lucy.

* * *

Leaning over the side of the _Dawn Treader_, Lucy gazed into the sea of lilies, her mind thinking, remembering. So different was this voyage from any she had ever embarked on. The islands she had known were different, harsher. They had no memory of the golden queen who had loved and nurtured. At best, she was a legend there.

And beyond those islands, she had seen wonders far more incredible than even those of Narnia. A Magician's Book, an un-dragoned cousin, a Star and his daughter, and a city of Sea People. She thought that perhaps, if there was time, she could tell Caspian the story of the mermaid and the evil sea witch, yet in her heart of hearts, Lucy knew time was nearly up.

Reepicheep's words echoed through her mind.

"_Where the waves grow sweet, _

_Doubt not, Reepicheep, _

_There is the utter East." _

They were sailing East. To the end of the world. In her days as a queen, she had gazed out of her bedroom window in Cair Paravel every morning, eyes fixed on the horizon, mind wondering what lay beyond it.

It had been a mystery existent throughout her reign, beginning only hours after being crowned queen. She had been watching the sun set, contemplating her title, her new life, and Aslan, when she had seen the lion himself, slowly wandering down the beach. And then he had disappeared! Somehow, Lucy knew that he had gone to the utter East. Past the horizon.

She supposed Aslan had known all of this. That every morning she would wake to the crash of the waves and the cry of gulls and wonder what lay in the East—if _he _was in the East. He had undoubtedly known that someday she would be here, at the end of the world, revisiting a past life and forging a future. She had learned so much from Narnia. So very much.

Now, she would discover what she had been yearning to know these many years. Soon, Lucy would know what lay beyond the glistening, eastern sea.

_There's going to be a chapter for each kid, so please let me know how you liked this one. I've never written in this sort of style before (very passive) so it was sort of difficult. Feedback is very much appreciated. _


	2. The Western Woods

_AN: Thank you so much for your response over Lucy's chapter. As much as I liked that one, I think this one is better. And it's longer! For me, Edmund is a much easier character to write because there's so much more to his character. Each chapter will be around two or three pages on word, though. Nothing to long. Just little drabbles. _

_I don't own Narnia or anything affiliated with it. _

**Chapter Two: The Western Woods **

"_To the great western woods, I give you King Edmund the Just." _

As he galloped through the forest, the brilliant colors of a Narnian fall flashed before his eyes. In front of him, Peter, Lucy, and Susan laughed, happily pursuing their quarry, momentarily leaving their cares behind.

Edmund knew every inch of this forest. He had devoted the past fifteen years of his life to the betterment of these great Western Woods. The tall trees stretching into the sky, the soft carpet of flowers and ferns, the patches of sunlight filtering through the leaves—all of these were his. Unlike the humans of his sisters' dominion and the giants of his brother's, the inhabitants of Edmund's quarter were purely Narnian.

He prided himself in his personal acquaintance with each of them—that he could informally drop in for tea with the badgers or join a midsummer dance with the fauns and satyrs. Edmund knew that the great oak dryads welcomed their discussions of philosophy, and that the birch girls loved teasing him. Edmund took special interest in the concern of his subjects, ensuring that each received just treatment, and that each had an opportunity to make his voice known.

To them, he was King Edmund, their protector. He could do no wrong in their eyes, a fact that unnerved him greatly. Despite this, he willingly took this role upon himself and would have given his life in a moment for the protection of the Western Woods—an event that had nearly occurred many times.

In the early days of their reign, he and Peter had scoured every nook and cranny in search of remnants of the Witch's army. Wolves, minotaurs, hags, and werewolves, all seeking refuge in a place under his protection. Edmund could not tolerate it. He would not tolerate the essence of _her _lurking in a place that had readily forgiven him his discretions. He had vowed to expunge even the memory of her from his precious Western Woods.

This determination had been practically deadly. It seemed as if her followers were eager to confront the newly crowned kings. The resulting skirmishes and near assassination attempts had eventually paid off, and the last of the Witch's followers disappeared into the darkest, dankest parts of the forest. At Peter's departure, Edmund had stayed behind, determined to ensure the safety of the Narnians.

It was in this time that Edmund traveled to the ruined castle of the Witch. He had gazed 

at it from afar, guiltily remembering. Finally, he had spurred his horse, determined to completely rectify his foolish and treacherous mistakes. He would give himself to this forest.

After several weeks of searching, Edmund had reluctantly deemed the woods free of her forces, though in his heart he knew that some evil would always lurk in this forest. He blamed only himself. In the midst of celebrating the freedom of the Western Woods, Edmund had promised himself and his subjects that he would never allow such wickedness to resurface. Neither in these woods nor within his heart.

A branch whipped his cheek, and Edmund returned to the present, grinning as he gingerly fingered what was sure to be another scar acquired in this ancient forest. A peal of laughter arose in front of him, and he slowed his horse, thinking of the quiet and solitude he usually found in this place.

Whenever the pressures of ruling became too much, or he had a particularly bad fight with one of his siblings, Edmund would ride. He would gallop to his forest, heart racing, crown askew. There, he would seek the easy comfort of his oldest Narnian friends, the Beavers, or simply bask in the warm silence of the forest. When he returned to Cair Paravel several days later, he would be rejuvenated and calm, and his siblings would smile knowingly.

"Edmund!"

Susan's voice startled him, and he found his sisters and brother had stopped beside him.

He grinned again. "Just catching my breath, Su."

She rolled her eyes, and Lucy smiled mischievously. "What did he say again, Susan?"

Susan laughed, lowering her voice in what she apparently deemed an effective imitation of him. "You girls stay at the castle. I'll get the stag myself." Peter chuckled, and Susan's voice returned to its normal pitch. "Honestly, just because these are your woods, Ed…"

Her voice trailed off, and they found themselves staring at a most peculiar sight.

Edmund felt something flutter in his chest, and feelings of awe and indignation arose within him. How had he never _seen _this before? He had been over every part of this forest, as had its residents, and he had never even heard a mention of such a strange thing. And yet… somewhere… once upon a time… he _had _seen this iron tree.

"It… it is a pillar of iron with a lantern set on the top… I know not how it is, but this lamp on the post works upon me strangely. It runs in my mind that I have seen the like before; as it were in a dream, or in a dream of a dream."

He paused, going over every bit of the Western Woods in his mind. _When _had he seen this before? As his siblings attempted to make sense of the lamppost, Edmund strained his mind. He was struck with the sense that this lamppost had something to do with the beginning of their 

reign—something to do with a vast alteration in their lives. A strong feeling washed over him, and he realized that if they chose to pursue the mystery, their lives would once again be inexplicably altered. Even with this knowledge, the aura of nostalgia that shrouded the lamppost was almost too much to bear.

These were his woods, his charge. It was his responsibility to know of every rock and tree, and most certainly of any trees of iron.

As he approached the lamppost, placing his hand on its cool trunk, he was bowled over by the overwhelming sense that his horrible treachery had begun at this point. He heaved a shaky breath. Something in his mind was pushing him forward, tugging him past the lamppost and into the unknown. Here, he had failed Aslan once before. He had no desire to do so again.

Bracing his shoulders, he faced his siblings. "I have such desire to find the signification of this thing that I would not by my good will turn back for the richest jewel in all of Narnia."

Lucy graced him with a gleaming smile, and Susan's next words warmed his heart, sending courage coursing through him. "Then in the name of Aslan, if you would all have it so, let us go on and take the adventure that shall fall to us."

In the name of Aslan.

And as they entered the thicket, Edmund realized that his beloved trees were softer and that the crunching leaves beneath his feet were no longer crunching.

And then he remembered.

He had been the second to stumble into Narnia, to blindly traipse past the sparkling wonderland and into her clutches.

The Western Woods had watched King Edmund grow from a foolish boy into a wise king. He had protected them with his life. In this forest he had been renewed, celebrating, fighting, dancing, conversing, and _living. _

These woods had welcomed Edmund into Narnia. They had been his responsibility and his joy. Now, after a lifetime under his careful eye, the great Western Woods would bid their king farewell.

_AN: The first half of the dialogue comes from the movie, but after Susan imitates Edmund, it's strictly from the book. I did alter some things, cutting out the more formal bits and quotes that weren't exactly necessary. One thing I find interesting, though, is that in the book, the "dream of a dream" thing is Edmund, whereas in the movie, it's Lucy. As to why Edmund's never found the lamppost before, I just think that Aslan would have kept them all away from it until it was time for them to return home. _

_Susan is up next! Please review and let me know what you thought about this chapter. _


	3. The Southern Sun

_Thanks so much for your reviews! I appreciate them so much. Especially thanks to those of you who have reviewed both chapters!_

_I hope my fellow Americans had a happy Fourth of July, and everyone else had a happy Friday. Unfortunately, it stormed where I live, so fireworks were few and far between. Sad. But that's why this chapter is here!_

_I don't own any of this. _

**Chapter Three: The Southern Sun**

"_To the radiant southern sun, I give you Queen Susan the Gentle."_

What an abstract concept, she had thought in the days following their coronation. How can one rule over the sun? She remembered expressing her concerns to Peter.

"The northern skies?" he had asked her. "That's just as intangible as the sun." She had smiled, agreeing. "You and I, Su, we're in the same boat."

She had laughed, feigning exasperation. "Again? Sometimes I just wish you'd get off my boat, Peter. Quite the nuisance, you are."

She rubbed her shoulder, remembering how he had swatted her, claiming that there was no boat he'd rather be in. He had dropped a quick kiss on her temple before sweeping out of the room for his weapons practice with Edmund.

Staring around the crowded deck, Susan found herself wishing that Peter could have been with her on _this_ boat. She wondered how she could ever have told him otherwise—teasing or no.

It had taken Susan a good part of the year to come up with a firm grasp on what exactly Aslan had meant by the "southern sun."

Edmund had his woods, and Lucy the sea, and despite Peter's expression of doubt, Susan knew he understood Aslan's wishes.

She and Lucy had decided to make a quest of it. They would travel all over Narnia's south, meeting the creatures and living on the land. Lucy had been so sure that once there, Susan would know exactly what Aslan had intended.

So they had begun their journey, following the Rush River south. Those days of traveling with her sister were memories she would always hold dear. The radiant southern sun had shone brilliantly above them as the summer months approached.

Susan remembered the blisteringly hot days in which she and Lucy would camp on the edge of the river and spend the afternoon swimming with the naiads. Susan, a natural swimmer, had adored playing with the river girls. They were her subjects, she knew, and while they treated 

her respectfully, those days Susan could truly forget all of her responsibilities. This lazy and delightful atmosphere seemed to be everywhere in Narnia's south, stripping her of her anxieties and giving her the courage she needed to be a queen.

Susan had always been one to believe with her eyes, and when she and Lucy had entered the Dancing Lawn for the first time, Susan knew without a doubt that there was such a thing as magic. The forest surrounding the mystical clearing was quite unlike Edmund's ancient woods. While it had its share of Animals, Susan was delighted (and somewhat frightened) to find that many of Narnia's centaurs lived in this forest. They showed her the plains surrounding the forests and took her on wonderful gallops, pointing out the stars, the mountains, and the pass to Archenland.

Seeing such wonders in Narnia and the prospect of even more exotic lands further south instilled Susan with a sense of confidence. These lands were hers, and she would see to it that they never lost their beauty and magic.

It was a promise she fully intended to keep.

Susan remembered the return visit. They had crossed the river near the Stone Table, and she had been swept away by the compelling desire to visit the site of Aslan's death.

As she and Lucy climbed up large, stone stairs, terrible images flashed before her eyes. The White Witch. Those horrifying creatures. The knife.

As she and Lucy stood before the cracked Table, an overwhelming joy and peace had washed over. Lucy had squeezed her hand, smiling up at her.

"You see, Susan. Your lands are very important indeed." Susan had nodded, not quite understanding, when Lucy broke away, fingering the Table.

"You have the symbol of redemption, Susan." she had whispered it softly. "We all need his forgiveness at some point. Even you and I." Susan had gulped nervously, feeling as if someday she would need it most of all. "But if we ask, I'm sure he'll give it to us, Su. I'm positive."

Lucy's words reverberated in her mind, but right now, it hurt too much to think of Aslan.

"Susan, darling?"

Susan jumped, dragging her eyes away from the gray water she had been staring at. "Yes, Mum?"

Her mother squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. "Are you doing all right, Susan? I know that seasickness is often common on one's first sea voyage."

Susan offered her mother a weak smile. "Actually, I'm perfectly fine, Mum. Thanks for 

asking." She could hardly tell her mum that this was far from her first sea voyage—and that compared to the others, the ocean was smooth as glass.

Commenting on her good fortune, her mum squeezed her pale hand. "I've heard the sun's so much brighter in America. We'll have to be sure you don't burn, dear."

_The radiant southern sun. _

Susan snorted in a very Edmund-like way as her mother moved away. She wouldn't burn. She had spent weeks outside in Narnia, and her skin had never burned, only tanned. Her siblings used to tease her that Aslan had known exactly what he was talking about when giving her the southern sun. Edmund had been particularly persistent in the joke, insisting that like the southern sun, Susan was a harsh beauty who would burn you in an instant if you angered her.

She chuckled as she looked up at this world's sun, its light shrouded by gray clouds. She supposed she was_ slightly_ vicious when dealing with pompous and arrogant suitors.

The boat slicing through the waves, her heart sank as she remembered another sea voyage to a foreign land.

It had been one of the worst mistakes of her life.

Calormen had seemed a world of mystery and luxury. A world very different from the one she knew. She had been intoxicated by the luminous sun and the constant summers. Those in Tashbaan never had to deal with the fading loneliness of fall or the icy desolation of winter. They never had to wonder if the splendor of summer would return or if it was only some far-off dream.

In Calormen, magical summer nights and dazzling summer days were year long occurrences. In Calormen, one needed no faith in the coming of spring, for good weather never _left. _

Susan had been foolishly enchanted by the visual luxuries of Calormen—its beautiful people, plush palaces, and sparkling colors. She had forgotten the wholesome loveliness of Narnia's south.

Upon returning home, Susan had spent weeks touring her true lands—despite the fact that fall was approaching. She had assisted Squirrels in the pursuit of nuts and dined with Bears as they prepared for hibernation. She had visited the dwarves in the southern mountains, preferring the cramped darkness of their mines to the elaborate displays of Calormen. She remembered the centaurs and the archery contests. She remembered the guilt she felt when stargazing with them. How, oh _how,_ could she have even dreamt of leaving such a world behind?

The following spring (for it had come, as it had done every year of their reign) she had visited their friends in Archenland, following the well-beaten path she had ridden on so many times. Unlike the oiliness of Calormen, the humans of Archenland were her dear friends.

Even now, she smiled as she remembered Corin bowling into her, still talking about what he would have done to Prince Rabadash if given the chance. Cor had bowed politely from the corner, still uncomfortable with his new position in life. King Lune had swept her into a giant hug, commenting on how _very_ glad he was to see Her Majesty safe.

The residents of Anvard were like a second family to Susan, and she was by far the most common Narnian visitor. She remembered the pain of losing the queen, and Lune's inconsolable state at the loss of his wife. Susan knew the halls of Anvard nearly as well as Lucy and Corin, and she had been among the first of her siblings to visit their Archenlandish neighbors.

Why, it had been she who had reconstructed the ancient treaty between the two nations, bringing them into a second era of friendship. Archenland was not Susan's land, but she cared for it deeply. A treaty with the bordering country could mean only good things for the subjects in Susan's own domain.

And if nothing else, Susan wanted happiness for her friends.

She twirled a lock of windblown hair around her finger and sighed, wondering what her brothers and sister were up to. Peter, she knew, was likely studying with the vigor of a true scholar, happily reminiscing with the Professor in his spare time. She counted herself lucky as the one chosen to go to America, for she knew Edmund and Lucy were no doubt very miserable dealing with their horrid cousin, Eustace. Susan couldn't help but smile as she thought of what Edmund—or even Lucy for that matter!—might do to Eustace now that they'd been to Narnia a second time and reminded of their true selves.

She sighed bitterly. Their return had not at all been what she had expected. She had never in her life felt so much joy and pain at the same time. To find their beloved Cair Paravel in ruins had been devastating, but even that could not prepare Susan for the things they would later encounter.

Her heart had leapt when Edmund had suggested to Trumpkin that they row down Glasswater Creek and then follow the Rush. She knew the way to the Stone Table by heart and could hardly wait to once again be journeying through her own land. How excited they would all be to find Queen Susan returned!

Her dreams did not last long.

Her heart had broken after the bear attacked Lucy. She had been terrified for her little sister, but when Edmund had yelled at her to shoot, she just couldn't. She couldn't willingly take one of the lives she had promised to care for those many years ago. As Trumpkin cut up the bear, she had wished to join Lucy in Peter's arms, sobbing. What had happened to the magical land she had loved in her days as queen?

Her pain had increased when they found themselves lost. It was unthinkable that she could be lost under Narnia's southern sun. _Everything_ was different. The landscape was not what she remembered, and the forests seemed strangely void of life. Worst of all, the land had lost the 

magic she had worked so hard to preserve.

As the sun set, she stared toward the horizon, biting back tears. She berated herself silently. She had already cried over the loss of her land. The rivers she had swum in, the fields she had raced in, the forests she had loved. Her friends were gone, and in their place a race of creatures who would remember her as their warrior queen. Queen Susan the Gentle was lost.

Susan would never again see the land she had given her heart to.

She lived in this world now. A world in which the sun shone behind a mask of clouds. She must forget her lands and her people, for they had forgotten her. She must forget the radiant southern sun and all of its brilliance.

_This chapter is sad, but if you think about it, Susan's the only one who actually saw her land when they returned. If you didn't pick up on it, Susan's sailing to America during VDT, so it's sort of a companion piece to Lucy's. Both sisters at sea thinking about their dominion at approximately the same time. Unfortunately, Susan's got the short end of the stick. _

_Speaking of Lucy, these chapters are getting longer and longer and I'm really starting to feel like I ought to make Lucy's a little longer too. If you guys have any ideas, PM me or just add it in your review of this chapter. Thanks so much!!_

_Oh, and if anyone would like to beta for me, that would be great. _

_Peter's next!_


	4. The Northern Skies

_And they just keep getting longer_ :)

_I don't own any of this. I don't even think I own a compass!_

**Chapter Four: The Northern Skies**

"_And to the clear northern skies, I give you King Peter the Magnificent."_

Lucy's letter had nearly knocked the wind out of him. Gasping for breath, he had offered a weak smile to his curious roommate before launching off of the bed and throwing some clothes and other necessities into a suitcase. He rubbed his shin gingerly, remembering how he had slammed it into the dresser in his mad dash around the room.

His roommate had been rather shocked, and Peter knew that if Edmund had been there, the younger boy would have been smirking uncontrollably. Peter hadn't cared. The only important thing at the moment was to get to the train station and hop on the next train to Finchley. Classes or no.

Now, sitting in a small train compartment, he allowed himself to catch his breath. As he watched the English countryside race by, he smiled ruefully. Perhaps it hadn't been _entirely _necessary to catch the _next _train home. Especially not with exams approaching. Eustace and his friend Jill could have waited.

Yet even as his logical side—his Susan side—told him that it could have waited, Peter's heart told him that _he _could not have waited.

Not for Narnia. Not for news of his clear northern skies.

Fumbling in his pocket, he quickly pulled out Lucy's letter and re-read it eagerly.

_Dear Peter, _

_I hope all is well with you and you're ready for your exams. By the time this reaches you, you'll likely be in the midst of them, and Edmund and I will be home for the summer holidays, waiting for you to join us. I'm sure you're wondering how school finished off and "Did I manage to make any more friends?" and other rather dull things like that, and since neither of us _really _care _—Peter frowned momentarily. Of course he cared!—_I'll get on with the really important thing and leave all of that until we see each other again._

_Edmund and I just received a letter from Eustace, and Peter, you'll never believe it! Eustace and his friend Jill went back to Nar— I mean they went Back. Eustace has only told us a little in his letter, and he and Jill are going to visit the weekend of the twentieth to tell us more. What I've gathered so far is that they had some rather close encounters with some of the Northern Giants, and now it seems that Jill is particularly anxious to meet the High King. Apparently Eustace told her that the North was your quarter. _

_Peter, you simply must come back as soon as you can get away! They've been Home _and _up North! I know how anxious I was to hear of the islands when Ed and I sailed East with Caspian._

_Your affectionate sister (who misses you terribly)_

_Lucy_

Peter shifted in his seat, anticipation welling up within him. He could hardly sit still he was so excited! To have news from Narnia was one thing, but to have news from the North? Well, that was an entirely different matter!

He closed his eyes and allowed images of Narnia's North to fill his eyes. Owlwood Forest, the marshes, the River Shribble. He wondered if it had changed since his time.

Was the River Shribble a gorge? Did the griffins still live in the seaside cliffs? He wondered if the stink from the marshes of Ettinsmoor was still as poignant and if the marsh-wiggles still boiled Grass Root in order to quell the nasty smell.

He smiled wryly. That had been one trick he had been _most _thankful for.

Thinking of the marsh-wiggles, Peter wondered if Jill and Eustace had encountered one. He certainly hoped so, for despite their superficial pessimism, they were creatures worth knowing. He grinned as he remembered all of the times the marsh-wiggle regiment had saved the day and then proclaimed that Narnia was most certainly lost _forever. _

Narnia's northern quarter was undoubtedly the plainest part of the country. It lacked the colorful cultures that painted the eastern islands, instead hosting creatures whose own culture was a variety of domestic charm and simplistic practicality.

And while the south of Narnia enjoyed a wholesome friendship with its neighbors, such a luxury was absent in the North. Narnia's northern borders were rarely peaceful, and Narnians and residents of the Wildlands did not pass freely across each other's borders. There were no trade agreements or invitations to Christmas parties, but rather border patrols and skirmishes.

Nor did the northern expanse of Narnia hold ancient forests and magical lampposts. The birth of Narnia had not occurred in its stinky marshes or craggy hills. It was a place void of magic and enchantment. Its sparse landscapes required contentment with the simple pleasures and a faith in hidden promises.

For the longest time, he had thought his stewardship of the North was symbolic of his role as eldest and High King. As ruler of the "northern skies" Peter had initially thought it his duty to preside over not only the North, but all of Narnia.

His brother and sisters had quickly put an end to _that. _

Still, it had taken years of practice to let his siblings care for their own lands independently. It was then that he had really, _truly_ seen his northern skies.

It had taken some looking, but Peter soon found the beauty in his lands. It was a subtle and rugged beauty, but it suited him perfectly.

The dense forests of Owlwood became his refuge. He loved laying on the brush floor, listening to the hooting of owls and the chattering of squirrels, the cool shade of the forest washing over him. In the beginning, he could barely take three steps without barreling into a tree. The forest had been so dark and so thick, but eventually, over time, Peter had developed such a thorough knowledge of the forest that he could walk through it blindfolded and only crash into several trees.

Slightly north of Owlwood Forest was the River Shribble. The river itself was hazardous, marking the border between Narnia and the Wildlands. While it was pristine like all of Narnia's rivers, the craggy rocks lining its banks made swimming perilous. Its swift current rushed east, pouring over a sharp cliff and into the turbulent ocean below. Many a time, Peter had seen the breathtaking falls turn red with the blood of the Northern Giants and his own soldiers.

While the thundering waterfall was amazing from any view, the one Peter most preferred was from the sky. He supposed it only made sense that the griffins would reside in a place deemed "the clear northern skies." Leaving their cliff-side homes, they would swoop and dive over the forest and marshes, upsetting the slumbering owls and startling the occupied marsh-wiggles.

Peter hated to play favorites, but these creatures were particularly dear to him. He remembered his first ride on a griffin's back. He had been only fourteen at the time and desperately nervous, despite all of Lightwing's soothing reassurances. All the same, he had dug his knees into the creature's flanks and gripped its soft mane nervously.

And then they were airborne.

Peter remembered the first time he had soared through Narnia's clear northern skies. He had seen his lands spread beneath him in miniature form and was reminded of toys back in England. Only this miniature world was real. It was not a game of make-believe, and he was not pretending to be king. No. These northern lands were Peter's.

There was Owlwood Forest, a dark clump of trees. They had swooped over it, feet brushing the green treetops. Birds had fluttered out of the forest, delighted to find their king airborne. He remembered their chatter as they rushed to keep up, desperately wanting to share this experience with King Peter.

The marshes had stretched beneath them. A vast expanse of brown and grey, speckled with silver patches of water. And then there were the marsh-wiggles, staring up at him in astonishment, muttering amongst themselves. "Is that the High King? Fall to his death, he will. And then where will we be?"

Beyond the marshes the River Shribble snaked toward the ocean, its silvery curves glistening in the sun, contrasting the dark browns of the surrounding hills. He remembered Lightwing plummeting over the edge of the cliff. Down, down, down. The spray of the falls soaking his clothes, the pounding of his heart loud in his hears. And then they had shot back into the sky, barely missing the menacing rocks below.

Soaring over Narnia's North, he had seen its picturesque beauty for the first time. Surrounded by a vibrant, cool blue, Peter had finally understood the wonder of his northern skies.

After that ride, he became comfortable in the skies, spreading his arms and pretending that he could fly independently. That he was no slave to the ground. And while that sort of thing may have looked silly in England, it became a common sight for the northerners.

From the sky, Peter could see his lands spread before him like a map. In battle, the griffins were the surest way to asses his army's situation. They had assisted him time and time again throughout his reign, and he would never forget their loyal allegiance during his first war or their noble sacrifices during his last.

While it was very unlikely that the griffins knew it, they had served their king once more nearly thirteen hundred years later, allowing Peter to soar through Narnia's skies a final time.

Peter cringed as he remembered the failed night raid. He had been so anxious to regain what he had lost that he had grasped at the things familiar to him. He had hoped that once airborne things would right themselves. That once again he would feel like King Peter of the clear northern skies.

Unfortunately, that had not been the case. He had organized an entire assault around creatures that did not recognize their significance to him. He had placed his faith in the wrong thing. In something temporary.

Everything had been wrong.

The griffin beneath him had been cautious, avoiding risks that Lightwing would not have thought twice of. There had been no rivers, no waterfalls, no marshes. The lands beneath him were not familiar.

Ironically, it had been the stinky marshes that he had longed for most.

On the surface they were scattered with wigwams and patches of quicksand. They were perilously dangerous and monstrously smelly. The grass that sprung up on the small spots of land were the only signs of plant life for miles and miles and the countless gnats and mosquitoes were enough to drive one mad. Yet at night, when smoke would curl from the small, orange fires dotting the marshes and the lilting sound of a flute could be heard wafting from some wigwam, Peter would gaze up at the bright moon and the stars speckling the sky and think just how 

hauntingly beautiful his lands were.

It was a beauty Peter had fought for his entire life, struggling, aching, _needing _to protect the striking lands that had claimed his heart. He had despised the giants at first. He had hated how they destroyed the landscapes he cherished and injured the beings he loved.

It had taken time for him to learn that there is always _some _good in even the worst things.

Narnia's noble giants had abandoned their barbaric relatives, preferring to live in the hills surrounding the River Shribble. After a cautious beginning, Peter had found them to be surprisingly friendly and innocent for creatures of their mass. The size difference was always good for several jokes, and Peter could still remember the time they had mistaken him for a fork. _That_ had been a close call indeed. While not the brightest of creatures, they were incredibly loyal and never failed to fight for High King Peter, though they often asked him why he was called _High _King when he was obviously so short.

The last fight against the Northern Giants had been one of the worst, bringing to head tensions that had been brewing for decades. This had been no mere skirmish, but rather a true battle. Peter had fought for his life, his country, but most importantly, the safety of the Northern Narnians.

They were not an impressive lot. There was no magic, mystery, or enchantment about them, yet to Peter, they were more than worth dying for.

He feared for them, even now, wondering what news Eustace and Jill could bring of their welfare. It practically killed him that he could not help them now, for he knew that there would never be peace between the Wildlands and Narnia.

Like his brother, his lands had been influenced by the White Witch. Before the one-hundred year winter, she had fled north, rallying followers and biding her time. The ongoing conflict with the giants was a result of her presence there, and Peter suspected that even now, thousands of years later, her influence was still very strong.

He fully intended to ask Eustace and Jill if they had heard anything, anything at _all_, that implied that the Witch still had a strong following in the North.

He hoped not. Even if they no longer remembered him, the griffins, marsh-wiggles, giants, owls, and every other Northern Narnian deserved the peace he had fought so hard to give them. He hated that he had failed.

Peter gazed at England's overcast skies and sighed heavily. Truly, the piercing blue sky was the masterpiece of Narnia's North.

He remembered a conversation he had had with Lucy regarding their lands a year after their coronation.

"I'm not sure what to do, Lucy." he had confided. "You each seem to suit your corner of Narnia so well, but I feel out of place up north. I feel so extravagant when I'm up there, what with my royal clothes and golden crown. Even when I'm just Peter it doesn't feel right. Everyone there is so down-to-earth and everything is so…so mediocre."

Lucy had clasped his hand encouragingly. "That's what you think now, Peter. Just wait, someday you'll see the wonders of the North. Someday you'll love it and they'll love you. You just have to get used to each other is all." She had flashed him a grin. "Besides, Peter, it will be good for you. Temper all of that blasted nobility. I get the sense that the northerners are a practical lot and that they don't care much for nobility, chivalry, and kingliness." He had furrowed his brow, unconvinced. "Look, they need you. Perhaps Aslan gave you the North _because_ it's gotten so mundane. Perhaps he intends for you to lend it some of your magnificence."

As it turned out, Peter hadn't had to lend any of his magnificence. It had already been there, he just hadn't been looking.

With a start, he realized that much of England's rural landscape matched that of his Narnian North. The blurred countryside took on an entirely new aura as he gazed at it through his window. Just as his own lands had initially appeared commonplace, so did England's.

Perhaps Peter wasn't looking at England properly. Perhaps England had a magnificence of its own.

He remembered Aslan telling him that he was in all worlds, and that Peter need only look. Guiltily, Peter realized he had forgotten to properly look.

He had been so focused on _remembering_ his love for Narnia's marshes, cliffs, and forests that he had forgotten who was responsible for all of it. Not only for bestowing him with his beloved quarter but also for _creating _it.

_Aslan. _

Peter knew nothing could ever take the place of the land he would give his life for, and he knew Aslan did not intend for him to replace it.

Perhaps, though, perhaps if he would only just _look_ he could find happiness outside of Narnia's clear northern skies.

Perhaps he could find Aslan.

_Phew. That was a HARD chapter to write. I hope I did Peter's chapter justice. It was hard to find something original to do with him, seeing as I've tried different angles for each sibling. I was actually thinking of writing it from Jill and Eustace's point of view, seeing as they've been North and all, and have them look at Peter, but it would have been really difficult to portray Peter's emotions and experiences. So… yep, this is how it turned out. _

_And did anyone catch the subtle reference to the Lady of the Green Kirtle? I'm convinced she's the White Witch. _

_One chapter to go! Please review and let me know whether or not I succeeded in merging book Peter and movie Peter. _


	5. Further Up and Further In

_So we come to an end of the journey. This is the final chapter of "Points on a Compass," and it ties all four lands together. This chapter took forever to write, because I wasn't sure how to approach it, but now, I think it's my favorite. It's also dedicated to Miniver, who has helped me brainstorm ideas and who has given lovely feedback the entire way through. Thanks so much._

_This chapter relies _heavily_ on _The Last Battle_ so there are lots of spoilers. The events proceed as the events of the novel do. That being said, I don't even imagine that I own anything in the seven Chronicles. They all belong to C.S. Lewis. _

**Chapter Five: Further Up and Further In **

"_Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen. May your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the heavens." _

Digory Kirke stared in amazement at the five children before him, though he and Polly were hardly any older now. Gazing in wonder at the world around him, he couldn't help but feel some certainty that they were back in Narnia—or something very similar. Oh, it did not _look _like Narnia, but the feel of it was the same. He laughed as the five children greeted each other, Eustace and Jill rapidly relaying their adventure to their friends. The youngest of the five did look marvelous in what had to be Narnian attire, but Digory's eyes were diverted toward the three Pevensie children.

He had never doubted their sovereignty over Narnia. No, the change he had seen in them was far too extreme. No longer were they children haunted by a war and difficult times, but rather a family who had seen years of hardship and joy. Now, crowns atop their heads and weapons at their sides, they exuded nobility and love. Never in England had Digory seen such a glow in their eyes, such smiles on their lips. He felt the sudden urge to bow, for here were monarchs worthy of their titles: Valiant, Just, and Magnificent.

* * *

As they stood before the giant Doorway, Jill stared in awe at the darkened land before them. She had never known Narnia like the others—she had never seen it in its glory. All the same, she loved it dearly. She jumped when Aslan roared, gripping Eustace's hand tightly. In the distance, beyond Narnia's marshes, she saw a giant, dark shape rise. She remembered seeing him—Father Time—beneath the moors, sleeping, waiting. His time had come.

On her left, Peter gasped, and she cast him a sidelong look. She saw Lucy squeeze his hand tightly and remembered that the North was Peter's domain. Jill noticed Peter clench the hilt of his sword, feet assuming a battle stance. She knew how often he had battled the Northern Giants. Pale faced, the High King watched as the giant blew into his horn, suddenly illuminated by the thousands of stars falling from the sky. The king's eyes gleamed in their light as he gazed at the clear northern skies for the last time.

To her right, Eustace gasped, whispering to her of the Star he had met lifetimes ago. Streaking the sky silver, Jill blinked, turning away from the practically unbearable brightness. Her eyes found Aslan, and to her surprise, she found Him looking at the Peter, Edmund, and Lucy. Puzzled, she turned to her friends, only to find them staring in wonder at the great Lion.

And then He spoke, barely audible. "Well done, my children, well done indeed."

* * *

When the rain of stars ended, Eustace was horrified to find dragons slithering across Narnia. He gulped, dropping Jill's hand and clenching his fist. Dragons were horrid, horrid creatures. He knew from experience. As they slithered across Narnia, chasing the good creatures from their home, he saw Lucy clasp her hands together tightly. Eustace knew that it was only Edmund's hand on her shoulder that stopped her from racing forward.

As the scampering of feet faded away, a great cracking rattled the air. The forests were being demolished. Eustace saw the dragons tear through tree after tree. In front of them, Narnia was being destroyed, its forests devastated. Trees tumbled to the ground, and grass withered beneath heavy feet. In the West, Eustace saw the light of what he knew to be a lamppost glinting in the darkness before it was extinguished, squashed by a monstrous weight. The light vanished, the barren, rock world illuminated by the glowing of the fallen stars. He heard the clanging of metal and turned to find Edmund had drawn his sword. A ragged whisper escaped the young king's lips, and Eustace felt his skin chill.

"It looks like _she's _done this." To see these great western woods so stone-like, so very much like _statues _must be tearing at his cousin, a man who had spent his life protecting these woods from the Witch's influence.

And then, Edmund turned to Aslan, apologizing, faithful. His eyes full of longing, he slowly sheathed his sword.

For the first time in his life, Eustace saw his stoic cousin cry.

* * *

King Tirian could hardly breathe for all of the excitement of the past few days. First he had been at war, aided by two children from another world, and now he was standing in the midst of the kings and queens of old, watching his country perish. The agony was terrible. Unlike the dignified lords and ladies beside him, Narnia was his only world, his only home. He loved it with all of his soul.

As stillness enveloped his barren lands, he snuck a glance at Narnia's three Golden Monarchs. Despite their explanation, he wondered at the absence of Queen Susan. He remembered King Peter's bitter tone and King Edmund's stricken expression. Of the three, Queen Lucy had struck him the most. Her beauty radiant, her sadness heart-wrenching as she mourned the loss of her sister.

Now, as he gazed upon her, he saw her countenance change. In fact, both she and her brothers were now staring raptly at the Door. His head swiveling, he found that the craggy hills and sharp mountains of the barren world were but islands. Rushing toward them from the other end of the world, the Eastern Seas glistened in the starlight, foaming, hiding Narnia beneath a blanket of water.

He heard a gasp and turned to find Queen Lucy had clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh. Oh _my._"

She dropped to her knees, twirling her fingers in the water that lapped at the Doorway. "Aslan's Country," she murmured to herself, gazing up at the golden Lion thoughtfully.

"Beyond the Eastern Ocean is Aslan's Country."

* * *

As the sun rose, overly large and blood red, Polly remembered the first sunrise in Narnia. How very different things had been then. To see the first and last sunrise of a world was truly a blessing. She exchanged a look with Digory and knew that he too was remembering. Remembering a lifetime, another world, a long-ago adventure, and all of the stories that had come since. Polly remembered a girl, as radiant as the sun, as graceful as a queen.

As the moon and sun became one, spouting fire into the steaming ocean, she remembered stories of this sun, told with passion and love. Memories of a golden, gentle sun, very different from the one she gazed upon now. And as the giant squashed the sun, extinguishing the last life in Narnia, Polly wept for the radiant southern sun.

She wept, for its queen was not here to do so.

* * *

It was a dream, Susan knew it to be one, and yet it was all so real. Realer than anything she had ever seen in her life. She watched as Narnia perished beneath water and Lucy's tears at the loss of their country. She ached for her sister—she knew Lucy's pain—and yet she could not help but feel smug in having washed her hands of that business before encountering any other hurts.

Even if Narnia _had_ been real, it no longer existed.

But as Susan watched her brothers and sister, racing through the green countryside, Dogs at their feet, Eagles soaring above, she felt a wound re-open. They did not know it yet, but this, _this _was the land she had loved.

Her heart ached when they realized it, shouts ringing in her ears.

"Those hills," her sister cried, pointing south, "the nice woody ones, and the blue ones behind—aren't those like the Southern border of Narnia?"

Susan knew them to be, yet they were more were more beautiful—realer—than anything she had ever encountered in Narnia.

"Look!" exclaimed Edmund excitedly, "there's Mount Pire with his forked head and the pass into Archenland and _everything!_"

Susan couldn't help but share in her brother's enjoyment, wishing to whirl him around as she had once done so many years ago. Narnia's South, _restored!_ It was as if they had never left! She imagined trailing through the forests again, swimming in the rivers. Oh, to go home!

Rather than join in her excitement, her siblings were strangely silent, exchanging saddened looks.

And then she remembered. She was not _there. _This was a dream.

Still, she could not help the delight that bloomed in her chest when Farsight the Eagle began to describe the land below—illustrating the Great River that still snaked through Narnia's South, and beside it, the Stone Table.

The Stone Table. The symbol of redemption.

She watched as joy lighted on Peter's face at the mention of Ettinsmoor, and how Edmund grinned when he heard of Beaversdam. Eyes gleaming, Lucy clasped her hands together, delighting in the notion of Cair Paravel still resting on the Eastern Ocean.

The Eagle's next words echoed in her mind. "Narnia is not dead. This is _Narnia_."

And as the Professor began to explain how this could be, how they could be back, Susan realized she had been mistaken all along. Narnia had never turned its back on her; she had never been exiled. No, she was only banished from a copy of the world she loved. She had broken her promise to forever look after the lands beneath the radiant southern sun.

This was a dream, yes, but Susan knew it was also a reality.

"I have come home at last!" brayed the Unicorn, brandishing its pearly horn. "This is my real country! I belong here! This is the land I have been looking for all of my life, though I never knew it until now."

The words pierced the gentle queen's heart like one of her arrows. And she knew then. She knew that someday she would go home. That someday, she would be reunited with the world she held so dear, with the people she had forgotten. Susan knew that she could never erase what she had done, but she _could_ remember Narnia's radiant southern sun everyday until Aslan called her home.

* * *

Edmund's breath hitched at the sight of Cauldron Pool and the Great Waterfall. To the south, he knew was Lantern Waste.

The others racing toward the Pool, he hesitated, sinking to the ground, leaning against one of the great oaks of the Western Woods. For the second time that day—or had it been years?—he felt his eyes fill with tears. To have seen the destruction of these woods and then, shortly after, their resurrection was too much to bear.

Staring around at these beautiful, massive trees, Edmund momentarily felt as if this forest was not his own. It was like when he had been crowned—he hadn't believed he deserved such a magical place. And now, after years of becoming acquainted with his people, his land, these woods, he was once again a stranger. These trees, this Waterfall, _everything_ was far more beautiful than he deserved.

And yet, no.

Edmund knew this land. He had poured his heart and soul into this forest. He had spilled blood among these ferns. This was still his forest. Just as these woods were a brighter copy of their former so selves, so was he.

Everything he had learned in Narnia seemed to point to the beautiful restoration of the great Western Woods.

Death begets life—a life far more splendid than the one before it.

Aslan's death, his own redemption, and finally these striking woods. All part of the cycle of destruction and restoration.

Feeling the rough bark of the tree behind him, Edmund knew that _this _was life fully redeemed. Seeing these woods in all their glory, the barren wasteland was but a vague memory. _This _was reality.

Later, Edmund would gaze at his land from the heart of a garden, deep in the mountains. He would see the silhouette of each tree, casting shadows over sparkling rivers and vibrant ferns. He would see a lamppost, ever-bright, always a reminder of his marvelous gift: a second chance.

His mind at ease, he would greet his friends, his people. Those he had thought were forever lost to him. The Beavers were first, his oldest Narnian friends, happy at the prospect of an eternity with their king. He would find the dryads, the birds, the fauns, and every other creature delighted to find King Edmund had returned. Delighted to know their just king had come home.

And then, Edmund would know. He would know that he had done his duty. That the splendor before him would exist forever, free of danger, free of evil. He had proven himself. Edmund would know that he need not fear his past, that now all he must do is embrace the joys of Narnia's great Western Woods, for redemption is forever.

* * *

"Further up and further in!" The cry reverberated through Peter's bones. Further up and further in, to Narnia! He plunged into Cauldron Pool after the Unicorn, relishing in the cool water that soaked his skin.

Feeling his sword slap his leg, he felt the phantom of a worry shoot through his mind for his precious weapon. And then he heard Lucy's laugh and the thunder of the falls and the yipping of the Dogs, and Peter realized that here, it was _impossible _to worry about anything.

Swimming easily, Peter gilded through the water, staring in wonder as the Unicorn began the ascent, its horn causing the water to cascade toward the ground in two, gleaming rivers. Not stopping to think, Peter followed.

Up, he swam, though he was hardly sure if he was swimming or climbing. He swam higher and higher until Cauldron Pool was a small blue spot on the ground. Somehow, he stopped, gazing around in awe at the lands spread before him, water spraying around him.

This was a vantage point Peter was familiar with. Seeing Narnia spread before him like a map, Peter felt his heart soar like the griffins he had once ridden so many years ago. He imagined that he no longer needed a griffin to fly—that he was perfectly capable of doing so on his own.

There, to the south, was Lantern Waste, and even further, the pass to Archenland. He could see the ocean shining in the sunlight, an endless stretch of blue, framed by sand as white as snow. He gulped, turning his head North.

There was no giant lumbering over Narnia's marshes now. Instead, Peter found himself gazing at a vibrantly green field, speckled with patches of water. Still treading water, he looked south of the marshes, hardly believing that the emerald land before him could be his bleak moors. And yet, they were, for just south was the River Shribble, those strangely beautiful hills, and Owlwood Forest.

Peter wondered how marsh-wiggles behaved in this new country.

Squinting, he found he could see the waterfall he had flown over so many times. If possible, the water was the brightest blue he had ever seen. He could even see the griffins soaring over the surf, diving from the cliffs.

He wanted nothing more than to join them. To see Narnia as he had during her Golden Age—soaring through the clear northern skies as King Peter the Magnificent.

"Further up and further in!"

And yet Peter knew. Somehow he just knew that Narnia's magnificently restored North would wait for an eternity to greet her king once again. That steeper mountains, richer orchards, and bluer waters awaited him beyond these falls. Peter knew that somewhere, in the highest and most beautiful of mountains, Aslan waited, and that then, his King would show him beauty he never could have imagined in his clear, northern skies.

* * *

Standing arm in arm with her dearest Narnian friend, Mr. Tumnus, Lucy felt fit to burst with happiness. Around her, old friends chattered, happily exchanging greetings and stories, and she couldn't help but smile at Mr. Tumnus every couple of moments.

There was Reepicheep and Caspian and dear little Trumpkin. Further back was Trufflehunter and Patterwig the Squirrel and even the Bulgy Bears. Spotting Aravis and Cor and Corin, Lucy waved brightly, remembering all of the times she had spent in their company. Lucy couldn't help but grin when she found Peter conversing animatedly with Oreius and Glenstorm, thinking that if there was any sort of trouble in this world (which she highly doubted) Peter and Edmund would have an awfully hard time finding it. She spotted Edmund speaking with the Beavers, a soft expression of his face.

And Lucy, Lucy reveled in the company of Mr. Tumnus, a friend she had thought never to see again.

"Mr. Tumnus, look!" She gazed in wonder at Cair Paravel, glittering in the white sand. "Oh, Mr. Tumnus! I can see my bedroom through a window in the castle, and through there, I can see the ocean!"

She stood in amazement, marveling at this wondrous new ability. She gasped in delight, grasping the Faun's hand tightly.

"Oh, my! I can see all of the islands, Mr. Tumnus. There's Terebinthia and the Seven Isles! Why, I can even see the all of the places we stopped on the _Dawn Treader_! And there's the Sea of Lilies and even the underwater castle!"

She clasped her hands together, twirling to face her friend, eyes shining. "It's all still here, Mr. Tumnus. Every last bit of it! Do you think they remember me? Oh, I _do _hope they do!"

And the Faun laughed. "I don't know how they could possibly forget you, Queen Lucy. You are their queen."

She laughed happily, eyes roaming across the glistening eastern sea, heart pounding, cheeks rosy with excitement. She could hardly wait to board _The Splendour Hyaline _and submerge herself in the vibrant cultures of the island people.

"And I shall sail to the end of the world once more!" she exclaimed happily, laughing as she wondered what was at the end of the world in a world that never ended.

And then, to her amazement she found her gaze focusing on a mountain beyond the Eastern Sea, a mountain that they had once called Aslan's Country. And beyond that, beyond her Eastern Seas—

"Oh, Peter! Edmund! Come quickly! Why, it's England! I can see Mum and Dad!"

And it was true. Just as this was a purer, truer Narnia, the three Pevensie children found themselves gazing upon the true England.

Lucy laughed delightedly. "Beyond the Eastern Seas! There is always some great wonder there!"

And as if on cue, a great horn rang throughout the glorious mountains, its clear cry calling them, calling them further up and further in.

When Aslan appeared, the valiant queen remembered the yearning that had always accompanied the love of her Eastern Oceans. Radiant, the great Lion's eyes glistened, and when he spoke, it was the clearest sound any of them had ever heard.

As he smiled proudly at the three Pevensies, his kings and queen, Lucy knew without a doubt. She knew that this was what her heart had dreamt of all those years. That this was the mystery that lay beyond end of world, the dream she had never been able to imagine. And as Lucy remembered the Golden Age, a ruined Cair Paravel, _The Dawn Treader_, the roaring ocean that had destroyed Narnia, she knew in her heart of hearts that step by step the glistening eastern seas had brought her to Aslan.

To her true country.

* * *

"_And as He spoke, He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great a beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us, this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them, it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before." _

C.S. Lewis, _The Last Battle _

_

* * *

__Thank you so much for reading and reviewing throughout this story. I'm really rather fond of the entire thing, I think. It's very different than anything I've ever done before. Please review one last time, and let me know your thoughts on this chapter, or the entire story as a whole. _

_Thanks again, and God bless. _


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